Screaming Silence
by whovianonakayak
Summary: With the devil in his mind, Sam can't take it anymore. Will Sam's life end at the end of a gun, and will he be behind the trigger? WARNING: This story deals with suicide and has no shipping. WARNING: Suicide/Major Character death. Beware if this may be a trigger.
1. Chapter 1

Screaming Silence

A _Supernatural _fanfiction by: wovianonakayak

*I don't own _Supernatural_ or any of the characters*

This story takes place while Sam is in the mental hospital with Lucifer in his mind.

_Sammy! Sammy! Sammy! Sammy! Saaammmmyyyyyy!_

"You can't call me that," Sam muttered. He was tired. So tired. Seven days with no sleep had left him feeling almost paralized. He could barely move. His eyes wanted to close… Just close… Drift to sleep… Peace… _SAMMY!_

Sam just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. Ever since the Hell wall in his mind broke, he'd been seeing Lucifer, himself, everywhere. The hallucinations were so real. Too real. He didn't imagine hearing the noises, they were real. They were trumpets and firecrackers in his ears. No matter how much he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. Sam just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

Everyday was a cycle. He laid in his bed, stayed awake, and tried to ignore the devil on his shoulder. Nights were weird. For eight hours, he stayed in a daze, not able to fall into the sweet caress of slumber.

The doctors on the mental floor loaded meds into Sam's system, to the point where it was bordering unsafe. Nothing helped. Somehow, the medication made Sam more tired(something he thought was impossible). How could he explain to them that he had Lucifer in his mind? He couldn't. For hours on end, the troublesome mind-demon talked to and messed with Sam. It was like having a hyper toddler with you at all times. Only this toddler knew his way around a torture chamber.

_How many bears does it take to change a lightbulb? _Sam didn't want to hear the punchline. _None! Bears don't use artificial lighting! _The young Winchester closed his eyes and groaned. _You didn't think it was funny? I thought you loved my jokes. _"I love it when you shut up." _Ouch. That hurt right here. _The devil pointed to his chest and put on a hurt face.

Where was Dean? Sam knew his older brother was looking for a solution to his current situation, but he couldn't be patient. Every day, Sam could feel himself slipping away, only kept in place by the drum and air guitar solos that rang in his ears.

When would it end?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had no idea what to do. Sam relied on him and couldn't find a solution. That seemed to happen a lot. Cas was still MIA. The hunter could really use some angel know-how right now. Nowhere online or in his dad's journal was there anything that could help. Dean would be lucky to find even the closest description of what was happening to his little brother. It's not everyday that someone has the devil in their brain.

The lobby of the psychological floor of the hospital was depressing. To keep patients from being over-stimulated, everything was terribly white. White walls, white doors, even the dingy floors were once white. Dean wanted to see his brother, but the doctors said to let Sam get his rest. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that Sam wouldn't fall asleep. He wanted to sit on Sam's bed and tell him that everything would be okay. They would both know it was a lie, but it would be comforting. The action may bring some memories of when they were kids. All before demon crap and Hell trips. Why couldn't it all go back?


	3. Chapter 3

If he had the energy, Sam would punch something. The sicko in his brain was "reenacting some show with Harry Potter puppets and a ticking noise.

"I'm gonna kill myself," Sam groaned. Maybe he didn't mean it, but it didn't matter. The idea was already out there, floating in the air.

_Why not? _Of course. Sam knew what was coming. He'd heard it enough times from himself. _Why not pull the trigger? Who would care? _Sam rolled his eyes and tried the never-fruitful practice of blocking Lucifer out. _I mean, you have me in your brain. No good could come out of that. _The patient had already considered these ideas, himself, but it was weird hearing them come out of someone else's mouth, even if that person wasn't a person at all.

_Look at Dean. _Lucifer leaned in closer. _He's out there, trying to help you, and you're in here, trying to sleep._

"I want to sleep," Sam pointed out, not making eye contact with his hallucination, "but you won't let me."

_No. _Lucifer pointed out. _You won't let you sleep. You can shut me up. You know how._

This was all a trick. But he was so tired…

"Hey, Sammy." It was Dean. At least, Sam thought it was. The older brother seemed to catch Sam's confusion.

"It's really me, man."

Sam tried to relax, but that's hard to do when you're in a psych ward with a crazy hallucination and your brother. All he wanted were answers.

"Found anything?" he asked, half paying attention.

Dean sat on the end of Sam's bed and stared at the floor.

"No," he responded, "There's never been anything like this, before. There's nothing to go off of."

Sam nodded in understanding, wishing that he could nod off to sleep…

"We'll find a way, man," Dean said with a smile. He was clearly trying to keep his brother going.

_Aww. He cares. You could help him. _After this comment, Sam couldn't stand to look at Dean. The older brother's pain was obvious. Sam could help. He could end this.

"Buddy?" Dean nudged Sam, getting his little brother's attention, once again. "What are you thinkin' about?"

There was a pause before Sam let out a deep, tired breath.

"I want it to end," he said, not daring to look at Dean. His brother's expression softened. Dean's eyebrows tilted in and moved together. A look of sympathy.

"Sammy-"

But Sam was mad now. He was mad at the devil, at his stupid luck, and most of all: at himself.

"I WANT IT TO END! TO BE OVER! I'M SICK OF THE DEVIL!" he calmed down and slumped over more. "I want to be over."

Dean didn't know what to do. Should he even attempt to make his brother feel better? Was it worth it? Hearing Sam scream out in rage about wanting to be dead made Dean feel so helpless.

All his life, watching over Sam was his job. Never could Dean imagine letting anything get to Sam. Never had he thought Sam could be the end of himself.

"We'll figure it out." He had to make his little brother feel better.

Sam just rolled over onto his side, obviously not asleep, but trying to get there. Suddenly, his arm swung out, trying to slap something away. "Stop it!" he muttered. Dean grabbed his brother's arm and pulled it to his side. "Stop it!" Sam said louder, but not to Dean. The man was moving around now, trying to get his arm free. Dean wouldn't let it go. He was so confused. He didn't want Sam giving into his devil.

Sam was thrashing now with Dean trying to get a better hold on him. "Sam-" Sam fell off the side of the bed.

With a clunk, Sam's head smacked into the nightstand. Dean winced. He was sure this would have knocked Sam unconscious, but the youngest just jerked and rolled over in pain. The boy really couldn't sleep.

_Come on, Sam. Do it._ The devil help a gun out to Sam. That's what he had been swatting away. "No." _No? But you want it to be over. _"Nooooo…" Sam moaned. He moaned from the pain in his skull and his anger at Lucifer.

"Sammy, come on," Dean willed his little brother to get back up. He walked over to his brother's side and crouched down. Dean tried to get Sam to move his head, but he was still resisting. "I just want to see the damage. Ouch. Got a bruise starting, but that's all."

_It's not enough, Sammy. You've got to end it. _"Shut up," Sam mumbled. Dean knew it wasn't aimed at him, but he wished his brother wouldn't fade out and start talking to an invisible third party.

_Just do it, Sam. Dean won't care. It's about time for him to not need to watch over his helpless Sammy, 24/7._

He couldn't take. He had to sleep. With energy draining from his body, Sam reached for Dean. "Almost there," Sam told himself. He reached his goal. The younger brother grasped Dean's pistol from his waistband. The cold metal felt familiar in his hand. _Yes… _ The devil spoke from a distance, finally allowing Sam some quiet.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was so confused. Why was his brother reaching for him there?

"Sammy!" Dean reached out for his gun, but Sam leaned back, out of reach. Dean couldn't set his brother off. He wanted nothing more than to hold back Sam, take the gun, and throw it out the window. But he stayed where he was.

"Dean, I have to," Sam croaked out.

"No… You don't. We can fix this."

Dean wasn't sure if he was actually forming words or not. He just wanted Sam to put the gun down.

_Do it, Sam. Just one little twitch of the finger and this will all be over._

Sam was so tired, he could barely hold the gun up. With so many hunts on his record, it was sort of fitting that his end would come at the end of a barrell. He had so much to tell his brother.

"Dean," he breathed out, "I need to do this. You can live, not having to look over me, anymore." This was breaking his heart.

Dean had tears in his eyes when he said, "I don't care about not looking over you. That's my job. And it's your job to take care of me." Hot tears were now rolling down Dean's cheeks. This was not how Sam wanted his last vision of his big brother to be.

_DO IT, SAM! Sam winced at the volume._

"_I'm sorry, Dean."_

_The gunshot rang throughout the mental ward._


End file.
